


Hope

by EdosianOrchids901



Series: Plain Simple Prompts [34]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Elim Garak, POV First Person, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 12:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16305029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchids901/pseuds/EdosianOrchids901
Summary: Dialogue prompt: “People have been talking, you know. None of it’s good.”





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of ficlets based on dialogue prompts from Tumblr. Written 7/18.

Aside from a half-hearted call so the door would open, I didn’t react to Julian’s arrival. I simply stayed curled up on my side, simultaneously wishing he would just leave me alone, and that he would stay forever. I couldn’t determine which wish was stronger. 

“Hallo, Garak.” Dr. Bashir grabbed my desk chair and wheeled it over to my bedside, then plopped down in it without further ado. “How are we feeling today?”

“Fine. You can put that infernal thing away.”

He completely ignored me, studying his tricorder as he ran scans. “Well, your neurotransmitter and endorphin levels finally seem to be stabilizing a bit. They’re not ideal, but at least closer to normal than they’ve been since I removed your implant.”

“How delightful,” I replied without the slightest trace of enthusiasm. There seemed to be very little in the universe worth celebrating these days. 

Ever since the surgery, it was like I’d settled into a world of perpetual grey. There was no brightness, no color… no hope. And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t lift the crushing weight that sapped away my motivation to do much aside from lay in bed. 

Dr. Bashir tapped his fist on his thigh, still staring at my readings. “How are your headaches?”

“A little better, I think.”

“Is the medication helping?”

I mustered up enough energy for an awkward shrug. “I suppose, but it makes me feel dreadful.”

“Still?” He frowned, exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m not really sure what else I can do about that, aside from reworking the formula again.”

“It’s fine, Doctor. Don’t trouble yourself.”

The furrows in his brow deepened, and he sat back. “What am I to do with you, Garak?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you haven’t left your quarters in close to two weeks. Your shop’s just sitting there, sad and empty. People have been talking, you know. None of it’s good.”

“I’m afraid I’m not overly concerned with what people are saying.” I was tempted to roll over so my back was to him, but that seemed too rude even in my current, uncaring state. 

“Exactly. That’s what I find so worrying.” The good doctor leaned forward, and to my surprise, gently laid his hand on my arm. “You’re just getting more depressed hiding away in here.”

“Isn’t that simply an after effect of removing the wire?” 

“That’s causing issues, of course, but there’s things we can do to help you adapt. And none of them involve you isolating yourself in here for another two weeks.”

I sighed, knowing that he was right. Staying here, sinking deeper and deeper into the murky depths of my despair would only be detrimental to me in the long run. “What sort of things?”

“Well, we’ll start small. How about dinner with me tonight?” As he asked the question, he slid his hand down to grip mine.

Gazing up into those soft, kind eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand, a spark of hope reentered my world. “I would like that very much.”


End file.
